


the road isn’t as lonely when i’m with you

by bisexualbarry



Series: survivor’s guide: how to live (and love) during an apocalypse [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Last of Us
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Alternate Universe, Angst, Apocalypse, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, i cant not be a little bit fluffy with these boys, i imagined tom while writing this but he can be whoever, imagine peter as whoever you want lmao, there is some in there i promise, there’s like one scene where peter stabs a clicker at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualbarry/pseuds/bisexualbarry
Summary: Surviving in a world where an infection turns its victims into mindless killers, Peter is certain he’s destined to live out the rest of his days alone. He’s had to bury friends, and grow up with strangers.Then he meets Wade, and he finally feels things may be okay (or as close to it as they can get).





	the road isn’t as lonely when i’m with you

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so. i feel like i should give a quick run down if any of you are unfamiliar with the game the last of us (which is what universe this is all based in)
> 
> an infection called cordyceps brain infection has pretty much taken over humanity. people have to fight to survive, and quarantine zones are set up and run by the military since the governments all collapsed/shut down. i didnt mention in this fic, but there’s also a group called the fireflies, but since they arent relevant to this plot, i wont get into it, shsjsk
> 
> [here is a link to a youtube video explaining what exactly the infection is.](https://youtu.be/Z4nfEq8GQzo) it’s about seven minutes, and it does a great job in explaining what it does, how it effects humans, how it spreads, etc (:  
>    
> ALSO!! a lot of language (since the game is rated M and it would be rude to not include things, smh), mentions of killing and corpses. and peter kills a clicker near the end. i tried not to get too graphic with it, so just a warning

His hand felt sticky.

Not in the normal mud tacky way he grew used to over the years, but something almost smoother stuck to grooves of his fingers. He looked down, wishing almost immediately after that he hadn't. There was a large cut slicing across his right palm. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but he did need to wrap it before it got too bad. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of animals moving through the forest, graceful in their movements as they ignored the young man standing in the clearing. Taking his backpack off, Peter dug through its contents before coming up with his first aid kit. He was running dangerously low on supplies, and his wrap was on its last leg. He could only clean it in the river so many times before it started unraveling and became useless to help with his injuries. He'd been good lately. The cut on his hand was the first one he received in at least two weeks.

Peter had no memory of life before the infection. He was born two years after it started, and had learned to be quick on his feet over the twenty year period of his life. His mom had died in childbirth and his dad was some rouge hunter that made him as a result of his actions. Peter wasn't stupid– he knew what hunters did to women who traveled on their own.

At first, he traveled around with a small group of people. Then their life took a toll on the group, and they slowly started dropping like flies. Harry got bit and killed himself before the infection could spread; Gwen got shot by a hunter; MJ had died from pneumonia. Without proper medical care, she died within a week of getting sick. Peter had been on his own for roughly four months now, and was no closer to an end in sight. While the Quarantine Zones had been decent enough in getting to relax enough to get a good amount of sleep in, it wasn't what he wanted. MJ had always asked him what it was that he wanted, but Peter could never give her an answer. Loneliness was bad amongst humans, and it wasn't any different with their group. Peter and MJ had almost instantly connected, and then followed Gwen and Harry. Their deaths weren't easy for anybody, but especially Peter, who buried them all after they took their last breath. Even now, after months without them, he could remember what cities they were buried in. He didn't think they deserved to just be left out to be picked apart by animals or other humans. Peter took what he could off of them before laying them to rest, but those supplies were long gone.

Once his hand was sufficiently wrapped, Peter picked up his backpack and slung it back over his shoulders. His gun was heavy where it sat in its holster, always in reach when he needed to use it. The rest of his ammo was in a special pocket in his backpack, in a place he didn't want it to be found if he had the unfortunate experience of losing it. Leaves crunched under his feet as he walked with the last bits of daylight. Sunlight filtered through the trees, and Peter was wondering if he would be able to find a place to sleep for the night, or if he had to make another makeshift spot in the trees. It was a feeling he'd grown used to, but no matter what, the bark was always rough against his back. Especially with winter just on the horizon, Peter had to eventually head back towards the abandoned cities if he wanted to stay out of the storms. Staying in the woods only worked when it was warm enough to stick to the outdoors.

Breaking through the brush, Peter came across the start of an old suburb. Boarded up houses greeted him; each of them in different states of decay and abandonment. One house didn't even have a roof. It had sunken in so bad that it collapsed on itself, taking half of the siding with it. To his left was a house that was boarded up, but looked like someone had already picked it clean. To his right was a house that didn't look too terrible, and he made his way over to it. The steps leading up to it were rotted, so he placed his feet carefully where he thought they wouldn't cave under the pressure of his weight. The boards covering the front door took some work, but they eventually pulled off enough for him to slip through and inside. With all the windows covered, the inside was nearly pitch black. What little sunlight that came in through the cracks did little to help Peter see. Turning on his flashlight, Peter scanned it over the immediate area for any potential dangers he could bump into. There didn't appear to be any, and he carefully made his way forward.

There were some cans of food in the cupboards in the kitchen yet. He quickly took them and shoved them into his backpack before hunting through the rest of the drawers for any supplies. Doing so led him to find more cloths and ammo scattered amongst the drawers. Peter even managed to find a first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet, much to his delight. There was a rotting corpse sitting on the living room couch, but it wasn't producing any spores, so he didn't pay it much mind.

Upstairs, Peter found more ammo and even a bow and some arrows he could use. There were a few books in one of the bedrooms and Peter took the time to scan over the titles before packing a couple away. He would have to eventually dispose of them so his backpack wouldn't get too heavy for him to carry, but he liked indulging himself every so often when he went scavenging in the old homes. While he was always on guard for threats, Peter didn't want to live in a near constant fear, either. The world as it was was all he knew, and he knew if he didn't enjoy himself every so often, he'd become as mad as the infected.

All the mattresses left in the house were old, but Peter managed to find one that didn't squeak as much as the others. The blankets smelled like mold, but they were warm, and Peter wasn't about to complain. After hiding his backpack and making sure his gun's safety was on before putting it back in its holster, Peter crawled into the bed and got comfortable. By the time he had finished going through all the rooms in the house throughly, it had gotten late. And with no sounds of infected or hunters, Peter let himself fall unconscious.

 **~*~**  

Sleep had always been a fitful thing, even when he was in the Quarantine Zone, or had someone keeping watch. It was something that set deep in bones, and kept him on constant edge. You couldn't fight to stay alive if you were in a deep sleep. Deep sleep was vulnerable, and left him exposed.

Even so, Peter felt restful when he woke up. All his stuff was where he left it, even though as he prepared to leave, he could hear the sound of voices filtering in from outside. It was still dark in the house, but peeking out, he could see a small group of who he assumed to be hunters walking out in the bright daylight. Two men and a woman, if Peter could see them right. Cursing under his breath, Peter pulled out his gun and made sure it had ammo in it before turning the safety off and slinking downstairs. The hunters were still talking, but it sounded like they were stopped, and looking around at the suburb they found themselves in. Unlike Peter, none of them were carrying backpacks, and looked as if they were only making a simple run to get supplies before heading back to where they were staying. Peter never had any interest in being a hunter. While he understood the need to survive, even when that meant killing, he was never one to lie and wait for "tourists" to appear to kill them and strip them of their supplies.

"Something's different," one of the men suddenly spoke up, sounding closer than before. "Does this house look any different to you?"

Quietly, Peter backed up and hid behind one of the walls, out of sight if the group managed to make it inside. He hadn't been thinking clearly last night and made the mistake of not boarding the doorway back up. He couldn't find a back door anyway, and if he did, it would cause a lot of noise for him to try to pry his way out of.

"Someone's in the house," the woman said, making Peter panic.

Looking around, Peter tried and failed to find a way out. The hunters were already at the door, pulling the last of the boards out. In desperation, Peter hid behind the couch, just in time to hear footsteps walking into the room.

"They have to still be in here, there's no other indication that they went out another way," the other male said.

Peter held his breath as the group searched the house for him. The smell of the rotting corpse burned in his nose, and he was doing everything in his power to not make any noise. The hunters were still talking as Peter continued to search for a way out. Finally, he spotted a window to the left of him that had a board already loose and about to fall off. With some jimmying, he could get the board off without making any noise. The next board he'd have to kick off if he wanted to get out without being seen. Making sure they were still upstairs, Peter snuck over to the window. As expected, the first board came off with nothing but a soft _thud_ as it hit the ground outside. Looking around quickly, Peter readied his stance before kicking the next board as hard as he could. It made a loud noise, and Peter quickly scrambled through before the three could hurry downstairs.

Peter stuck to the bushes at the back of the house as the three hunters yelled and searched for him. They were all huddled around the window where Peter had leapt from, looking for him. He was able to get a better look at them, and decided quickly he was glad he made it out before they caught him. The woman had her scarlet hair pulled back into a braid, her gun ready as she searched around the house for the intruder. One of the males was tall and broad, his blond hair looked like it could shine in the sun if it wasn't so greasy and caked with dirt. The other was a slightly shorter black man with a nasty looking gun pointing directly at the shrub Peter was hiding in. Swallowing thickly, Peter knew he couldn't move without making a lot of noise and alerting them of where he was. It seemed it didn't matter anyway, since the black male was heading in his direction anyway.

"I know you're in there, I see the bush breathing," he said, making Peter's cheeks color slightly.

Gulping, Peter sat there a minute before slowly standing up, eyes widening as he felt three pairs of eyes on him as he rose. "Please, I'll be out of your hair. I just needed somewhere to sleep for the night," he said, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

The three of them exchanged looks before they all put their guns away. Peter kept his in his hand, just to play it safe. Even though they had put theirs away, Peter wasn't any closer to feeling safe until he was far away from them.

"What's your name?" the woman asked, her eyes scanning over his thin frame.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, easily deflecting the question.

"We're not hunters, if that's what you want to know," the blond stated. All three of them could easily pummel Peter with one hand tied behind their back. His words didn't ease Peter any.

"Good. Neither am I. Just let be on my way, and I won't be a problem."

"Why are you here, then?" the woman asked.

"I just needed a place to sleep. I've been traveling in the woods for the past few months, and sleeping in trees got old. I just wanted a mattress for the night, that's all. I promise."

The woman sighed and stepped closer to him. Peter swallowed thickly, jumping when she held out her hand. "I'm Natasha," she introduced. "Blondie over there is Steve, and the other one is Sam."

"Peter," he replied, shaking Natasha's hand. "You're really not hunters?"

"Nope," Sam replied, all tenseness from before seeming to melt. "A group of us are staying in another suburb nearby. We sometimes go off in groups like this to scavenge for stuff. This place in particular was a recent find for us, so I apologize if we scared you."

Peter nodded wordlessly, letting out a shaky breath. "That's fine, I get it. I used to run with a few people, and we did something similar. Although, there were only four of us, so we all stayed in one house and two of us would go looking."

"Where's your group, then?" Steve asked.

"Oh, um. They're all dead. I'm the only one left," Peter answered. He cleared his throat. "They're the lucky ones, I'd say. They don't have to worry about surviving anymore."

"You mentioned you've been in the woods for the past few months, how long have you been on your own?" Sam asked.

"And how are you still alive?" Steve added.

"Oh, uh. Six months, I think? And hunters don't go into the woods as often as you'd think. All the ones I've come across usually hide in the towns and steal from people when they come through. In the woods, there's plenty of animals to hunt and eat. Plenty of coverage, too," Peter explained.

"You can come back with us, if you'd like," Steve said.

"We don't have the supplies for another mouth," Natasha told him softly, probably trying to make sure Peter didn't hear her.

"It's alright. I was thinking of heading north more anyway. I hear there's a Quarantine Zone in Boston." It wasn't the full truth, but he wasn't about to be fully honest to a few strangers. Trust was rare nowadays, and Peter didn't hand it out easily as it was. All the people he trusted were dead, and easy trust was just about a death sentence. You didn't trust people unless you spent a lot of time with them. Even then, you had to be careful.

Natasha looked like she didn't believe him, but she didn't push the topic. Steve looked a bit bummed, probably because Peter looked younger than he was. He was twenty, but could easily pull off fifteen if he tried. Sam looked as if he didn't care either way, but Peter could tell he was along the same line of thinking as Natasha.

"Here," Natasha said after a moment, pulling a can out of a bag on her thigh.

"Oh, no," Peter said, taking a step back. "You said you have an entire group, and I can easily hunt."

"Peter, you look like you're a day away from starving," Sam stated bluntly. "How old are you anyway? Fourteen?"

"Twenty, actually," Peter said. He sighed before taking the can of peaches. "Thank you, but I feel guilty taking this away from you. Especially considering I picked from this house already."

"Oh, we figured. But seriously, it's fine. We still have the rest of the houses to look through. And, as you said, we can hunt, as well."

Peter looked at them before nodding and slipping the can into his backpack. "Thank you," he said. He put the safety on on his gun and slipped it into its place. "Please don't kill me as I'm walking away."

Natasha rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face as Peter started walking away. He could hear them talking as he walked away, wondering if he made the right decision to walk away from staying in a group and going on his own.

 **~*~**  

The sun felt hot on the back of his neck. He could feel the sweat pooling just under his collar, but he didn't bother to wipe it away before it got replaced by more sweat. Instead of going back into the woods, Peter had chosen to walk through the town once leaving the small suburb. He came across a few infected, but quickly took them out before moving along. Every time he saw an infected, he couldn't help but think of Harry for a brief moment. If he hadn't shot himself before it could spread, he would've been one of the mindless infected that now roamed the Earth. Peter thought it was cruel to let them continue to suffer like that. The infection may have taken over their brains and left them as shells of people who they used to be, but that didn't mean they needed to continue to suffer.

Peter settled for a late lunch in an alleyway between an old music shop and a rotted out restaurant. He didn't want to attract anymore infected, so he ate a can of fruit under the shade of an oak tree, enjoying the slight breeze of the early autumn weather. It was the moments like that that Peter enjoyed the most. The quiet peace of tranquility settling over his skin like a rarely used blanket. The sun poking through the leaves of the tree, warming him enough to not get cold in the breeze. The fruit settled a bit uneasily in his stomach, but he ignored it in favor of keeping it down. The last thing he needed was to get sick and reject what little food he had.

Peter doubted there was much in the run down town, but he picked through it nonetheless. He managed to salvage a left behind walkman in the music shop. It still worked, so he grabbed what he could to listen to music from before the infection and started walking again. Keeping one ear open, Peter slipped on the old headset and listened to music as he kept picking through the last of the stores. He was able to scrounge up some little equipment to put together a nail bomb he had heard about in passing. It wasn't much, and he wasn't entirely sure it would work when it came down to it, but he figured it was worth a shot.

If he was being honest, Peter couldn't remember the last time he had listened to music. When he was around eight, an older man in the Zone would sit in the courtyard and strum a guitar. Peter could listen to him for hours; his gravely voice soothing him and making him forget about his troubles, even for a moment. The lady that was watching Peter didn't care much for the old man, stating he was going senile even more than if the infection had gotten ahold of him. Peter wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not, but listening to him sing always made him happy.

He wasn't sure what happened to that old man. Dying from old age was a rare thing nowadays, and if he was old before the infection, Peter couldn't imagine how he had survived ten years past that. Or more, if he had lived past Peter watching him sing.

By the time night fell again, Peter once more found himself in a small neighborhood. The houses were all mostly opened and ransacked, so he wasn't going to bother looking for anything in them past a place to rest for the night. Peter had decent vision at night, but he never liked to run the risk, anyway.

Picking a house near the end of the street (as nice as the others were, he didn't want to make the same mistake twice, especially if the next group _was_ hunters), Peter peeked through the house to make sure it was clear before settling on one of the more comfortable (in his opinion) beds. It squeaked awfully under his weight, but the mattress was one of the softer ones he had laid on, and was better than in a tree. This one only had a thin sheet, so he didn't even bother covering up. Simply curling into a ball and falling into a dreamless sleep.

The next week continued much in the same pattern. Unfortunately, he had come across a group of hunters at some point and had a shoot out that left him with little ammo than he had to began with, and a bullet wound in his left shoulder. From the way his shoulder ached, Peter had a hunch there wasn't an exit wound in the back of his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" a male voice spoke up from his left.

Peter startled, glaring weakly at the bush that just spoke. Letting out a huff of annoyance at his assumed to be blood loss visions, Peter continued to try and patch himself up.

"There's no exit wound, buddy."

Peter's head shot up and met a startlingly bright pair of blue eyes. He scrambled up, hissing from jostling his shoulder. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes as he gripped his shoulder and waited for the wave of pain to pass. Once it did, he was looking up once more at the man in front of him.

He was taller than Peter, which really didn't take too much, and broader, too. He was wearing cargo pants with too many pockets and what looked to be a short of pack wrapped around his front. The shirt he was wearing had seen better days, but so has Peter's, so he wasn't about to comment. What really set him off was the amount of scars covering the man from head to toe. Peter wasn't sure if he was infected or a rouge hunter that Peter had missed. Either way, the site of the man set Peter on edge and had him fumbling for his gun with his good hand.

The man easily put his hands up. "Look, pal," he said. "You and I both know that whatever happens won't end well for you. You're injured, _badly_ , and more than likely low on ammo. You're a hell of a shot, but there were a shit ton of guys."

Peter swallowed thickly, his hand shaking slightly from where he was holding up the gun. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice tense as he tried to get himself away from the stranger.

"I'm not a hunter," the stranger continued, easing some of Peter's worries. "I'm just like you, alright? I'm just passing through."

"So why'd you stop?"

"Because you still have a fucking bullet in your shoulder."

"So?"

"Jesus," the guy breathed out. "Look, okay, I'm...I'm trying to help. My name's Wade, and I saw you sitting here injured, and I thought I'd offer some help. I haven't seen anyone come up to you, so I figured you were alone."

"How do I know you won't shoot me when I put my guard down?"

"You don't," Wade answered honestly. "You'll have to trust me to patch you up."

Peter swallowed thickly. There was that ugly word again. _Trust_. You could throw the word around as much as you'd like, but how often was it actually given out? Peter wasn't sure if could trust Wade to patch him up without killing him. But his shoulder was throbbing, and he had little other choice. An infection would surely kill him if he didn't.

"I'm Peter," he said eventually, his arm dropping. He sat back down on the cement block and handed Wade his kit. "Just make it quick, please."

"Sure thing, Petey."

Much to his relief, Wade obviously knew what he was doing. It hurt like a bitch, but Wade was able to do it quickly and clean and dress the wound. Wade jokingly set the bullet in Peter's hand afterwards, declaring it a trophy of sorts. Peter just snorted before tossing it onto the ground.

"Thank you," he said honestly, feeling relieved that Wade was just there to help.

"Look, I...I get that you don't trust me. I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to trust a walking corpse, but. In this universe, it's hard to, you know, do stuff alone," Wade said, almost shy. A sharp contrast from the word-a-mile person he was when he was helping Peter.

Peter pressed his lips into a tight line before sighing. Wade did make a point. Plus, Peter wasn't entirely sure how much longer he'd be able to function on his own. Today alone proved that fact.

"I don't trust you, no," Peter started, giving Wade a look when the other man opened his mouth to reply. "However, I do think helping one another would be beneficial for the both of us. I think today was proof enough that I can't keep going on my own if I want to keep surviving." He let out a sigh. "I am low on ammo, though, so we'll need to look around when we can. I only have, like, two arrows so my bow won't be much use."

"Ooh, can I call you Hawkeye when you use it?" Wade asked, wiggling where Peter assumed his eyebrows were.

Peter didn't understand what Wade was referencing, so he just played along. "Yeah, sure. Anything but 'Petey Pie'."

"Can do, baby boy."

Huffing out a laugh, Peter just made his way to the nearest store to look around.

 **~*~**  

"Damn, I can't believe you even _found_ a walkman," Wade said when Peter pulled it out of his backpack. They were walking a long stretch of road, and Peter had mentioned he found it in some music store a state or so back. "Petey, these things were outdated _before_ the infection."

"How old are you?" Peter asked conversationally. "Because if you have any memory of life before all...this, please tell me."

"I'm thirty-two," Wade answered easily. "I was ten when shit went down. I remember a fair amount of stuff, but probably not as much as you'd like. I just remember my dad talking about these things 'cause he found one in a Goodwill." He then paused in his steps, causing Peter to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Wait. You were born during the infection, weren't you?"

Peter nodded. "I'm twenty," he answered. "Not far into the infection, but yeah. Shit had already gone down by the time I started breathing."

Wade let out a whistle. "Sometimes I forget how long this damn thing has gone on." He started walking again, handing Peter back his walkman. "Life used to be so easy. Well. My home life wasn't exactly the best, but it was still better than constantly running and hoping you don't get shot every moment of the day." Kicking a loose chunk of concrete on the broken road, Wade couldn't help but chuckle sadly. "I remember when it first happened that I hoped my dad got it. Of course, that was when it was all still largely unknown, so I was more wishing he was out of my life than anything. Seems like life wanted to have the last laugh because my dad did get bit. Refused help, though, and ended up going crazy a couple days later and biting my mom. After that, I just walked to the nearest Zone and hoped to wait it out there."

"How long were you at the Zone?"

"Until I was eighteen. The Zone was already falling apart by that point, and the military were strict about nobody under eighteen leaving. Last I heard, it's been completely abandoned and overrun by hunters. Haven't been back there since, so I can't exactly confirm the suspicions." Wade blinked before taking a breath and turning to Peter with a grin. "Tell me about you Pete! You haven't said much since we started walking together."

"Not much to tell," Peter said with a shrug.

"C'mon, I told you my shitty story." Wade lightly bumped shoulders with Peter.

"I was born in the Zone and left when I was sixteen. That's it." Peter chuckled awkwardly. He looked around at all the broken down cars and bit his bottom lip a minute. "I know how to hot wire a car if you wanted to help me find one that still has all its parts."

Wade just blinked at the topic change, but easily took it in stride. He pulled a syphon hose out of the pouch around his waist and was swinging it around as they peeked at all the different cars. Peter cursed when he realised that they had a car, but no battery in sight to put in it.

"Doesn't surprise me much." Wade's voice echoed through the abandoned road, echoing off the different rusted metals. "The batteries are usually the first to get swiped on cars."

Pouting, Peter nodded in acceptance before walking over to a camper and staring at it. Wade joined him a moment later.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"I remember when I was younger stumbling across my first camper," Peter started. "I didn't know what it was at first, and a friend had to explain to me what it was." He let out a soft laugh and looked at Wade. "People willingly went into the woods and camped, although they always had enough supplies to live there for a week, sometimes more. But me? Camping is all I know, but I don't have the luxury of having enough supplies to stay in one place for more than a night or so." Swallowing thickly, he looked back at the camper. "I don't even know where I'm going anymore. I don't know what I'm living for. I'm useless, Wade, and yet I keep fighting to stay alive. But for what?"

There was a hand on his shoulder, and it startled him a minute before he relaxed under Wade's hand. "Then you have to find something to fight for," he said, his voice soft. "Me? I wander around and help where I can. I make it a purpose to help those who can't."

"Are you saying I can't take care of myself?"

"Fuck no. You can probably take care of both of us before I could even blink. Or even better than I can take care of myself." Wade shrugged. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that you need to find your own reason for living. Your own purpose. It might take you a while, but it'll be there."

"I never knew you could be so deep," Peter said, teasing as he wiped away what tears had collected in his eyes.

"Oh, baby boy, I can be however deep you want me to be." Wade winked, causing Peter's face to burst into flames. "Oh my god, you're so cute when you blush. You're like a cute tomato."

Peter weakly glared at Wade before turning on his heel and walking away. He could hear Wade scramble to catch up with him, and that caused a smile smile to find its way onto his face.

"So," Wade said, never the one to like silence. "No destination in mind, yeah? So how do you decide where to go?"

Peter just shrugged. "To be honest, I just kinda keep walking and stop at night to rest. I tend to stay away from the cities because they're either crawling with infected, or overrun by hunters. Especially the abandoned Quarantine Zones. Those tend to attract the most hunters. But with winter coming in a few months, I need to stay where there's buildings so I can keep out of the winter storms."

"Makes sense. I usually always keep to towns and cities. Even after twenty-two years, you'd be amazed at the shit you can still find."

"I can believe that."

Wade did his sudden stop again, but this time it took a minute for Peter to realise he wasn't walking anymore. Quirking an eyebrow, Peter just stared at Wade. He opened his mouth to say something, but Wade quickly covered it with his hand. "I hear clickers."

Straining his ears, Peter listened for what Wade heard. Sure enough, in the far distance in the direction they were heading, he could hear the faint sounds of clickers. Furrowing his eyebrows, Peter wondered how Wade was able to hear that far away, but he was dragged back before he could question it.

"It's getting late, and this thing has a mattress in it. You seem to like those," Wade said, shoving Peter into the aforementioned camper.

The scent of rotting flesh assaulted his nose, making him rooted to his spot. Wade easily brushed past him and grabbed a newly deceased corpse and brought it outside through the door in the front. It smelled relatively better inside the camper, but Peter still didn't want to go anywhere near the driver's seat where the corpse was found. The rest of the camper was upturned and trashed, but the mattress was still fully intact. And it didn't even squeak!

"Why don't you rest? I'll keep watch. I'm still wired from everything, so I should be good for a few hours," Wade stated, playfully ruffling Peter's brown curls.

Peter slapped his hand away, but couldn't find it in himself to argue the point. His whole body felt exhausted, and while he didn't entirely trust that Wade wouldn't shoot him in his sleep, he still felt safe as he laid down on the lumpy mattress. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

When he woke back up, it was to the feeling of movement. Forgetting where he was, Peter shot up into a sitting position, hand already going for his gun. It was for nought, however, when he saw Wade sitting in the driver's seat.

"How the hell did you get this thing to run?" Peter asked in astonishment. He sat at the table facing Wade, a look of awe on his face as he watched the scenery pass through the window next to him.

"I locked the doors while you took your beauty rest and went wandering," Wade explained. "Snuck past the clickers and saw another camper just sitting there. It was completely trashed, so I swiped the battery and came back. You wouldn't believe the amount of gas can still be found in cars! It's a goddamn miracle!"

"You left me here alone while you went by the clickers?" Peter felt angry. Wade had only been with him for about two weeks, and he was already wandering off almost getting killed. It wasn't helping that Wade left him alone in his most vulnerable state.

"I didn't go too far, I promise. I kept the keys with me at all time, pumpkin. No one was getting in or out."

Peter blushed at the nickname, but didn't have any other retorts. They sat in silence a moment before a question that's been burning on the tip of his tongue made its way out. "Is there a name for the pouch you're wearing? I've never seen it before."

"Hm? Oh, the fanny pack! I found it when I was wandering around in Ohio. Can you believe somebody didn't want it? I know they're not the most stylish things ever, but boy are they nifty," Wade rambled. "I'm not surprised you've never seen one before. They haven't ever exactly been too popular, and they don't really hold all that much. Well. I have all these pockets for everything else that I need."

"Wouldn't it be easier to get a backpack? I carry so much shit with me because of it," Peter asked, setting said backpack onto the table in front of him.

"Probably, but that's not the way I roll." Wade grinned. "What kind of shit in particular do you carry?"

"Besides the usual survival stuff?" Peter shrugged. "Books, mostly. I enjoy reading when I have the time to."

"Why don't you read now? I'm just traveling until there's no more road, but we should be fine for a while. This road may be in shit condition, but it's still mostly here."

Humming softly, Peter peeked out the window. It was getting dark, and he couldn't see very far outside the window. Looking up, Peter spotted a light and turned it on. It flickered for a moment before lighting up so he had enough light to read with. "Let me know if you need to rest. I've never driven a camper before, but going straight can't be too hard."

"Will do!" Wade chirped, making Peter smile as he pulled out of the books.

Peter wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, the camper was pulled to the side of the road and Wade was passed out in the driver's seat. Peter cursed slightly before noticing that the doors had been locked and blocked by chairs leaning against them. Wade had bookmarked his page and thrown a blanket over him. He must've been out for a while, then.

The sun was almost midway in the sky, and Peter's stomach chewed uncomfortably. He wasn't sure how long Wade had been sleeping, so he carefully pulled out a can of beans and opened them. Wade could always eat his share whenever he woke up.

After grabbing his matches, Peter got up and inspected the small stove in the camper. He had never used one before, so it took a bit of stumbling and soft curses before he had a steady flame going on one of the burners. There was a spare pot in one of the cupboards and after wiping it as clean as he could, he set it over the flame to heat up. Once he was satisfied, he poured the can of beans into the pot. As he was cooking it, Wade stirred from his spot in the driver's seat. Peter shot him a smile before continuing his cooking.

"Morning. Or, afternoon, really. I have some stuff to eat with packed away in one of the pockets. I figured we could split a can of beans today, and then go searching for more foods in a nearby town," Peter stated. When Wade didn't reply, Peter looked over at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Did you get enough sleep?"

"Yeah, I did. Seat was more comfortable than any other place I've gotten used to snoozing in," Wade replied. He got up and sat at the table in a spot across from where Peter had been. "Where'd you get the pot?"

"In one of the cupboards. I didn't want to waste water cleaning it, so it just got a scrub. I don't have any place to put it, so we'll have to leave it here."

Wade was quiet once more, but Peter ignored it in favor of grabbing stuff from his backpack. He only had one small bowl, so he scooped some of the beans into it and handed it to Wade. For himself, he poured the beans back into the can and ate them that way. They were both silent as they ate, enjoying the food they got. When they were done, Peter scrubbed their utensils clean with a rag and tossed the can somewhere onto the floor. It was weird not having Wade talk his ear off, but he looked deep in thought.

"I found a backpack in the closet," he said suddenly. "Just...after our conversation, it got me thinking. And honestly, it's a damn miracle I've survived this long without a backpack to carry food in."

"Wade–"

"No, just. I'm trying to say you were right. Plus, if I use a backpack, we'll actually have the room to take the pot with us. My bag can be used for all the food stuff, and yours can be used for ammo and whatever other stuff we come across that we can use."

"Are you sure?"

"Petey, unless you plan on getting rid of me, I'm just trying to lighten your load. I tried lifting that thing, and it was heavy. Your poor back." Wade fake pouted. "But seriously. If we end up wandering for the rest of the year, I need to be more realistic about what I'm carrying."

Peter searched Wade's eyes before a small smile made its way onto his face. "Alright, I can't see any flaw in that logic."

"Yes!" Wade cheered, already standing up and grabbing the backpack where he had left it.

They shifted things around a bit and by the time Peter was slipping his bag back onto his shoulder, it already felt lighter. He grinned at Wade before climbing out of the camper. There wasn't a car in sight and it was out of gas.

On foot, they continued forward.

 **~*~**  

Snow was falling. And it was falling _fast_. Peter's teeth were chattering as he pulled his coat tighter around himself. They had swiped the jackets from an abandoned Quarantine Zone, but they weren't thick enough to sustain heat as they trudged through the storm. Peter could barely see two feet in front of him, but neither party knew where the nearest shelter would be, so they continued forward. He could hear the crunch of snow behind him, signaling that Wade was still following.

"There must be something soon. I don't think we can go much further in this weather," Wade shouted over the wind.

"Okay," Peter yelled back, but was unsure if Wade could hear them. He strained his eyes as he looked around. There was a light in the distance, and Peter only took a moment to hesitate before walking towards it. He heard Wade shuffle a bit closer, but didn't question it as he kept walking.

The light turned out to be a small fire, with a couple people huddling around it. It was a small cabin with no door and a few beams missing, but at least it was somewhere out of the thick of the storm. As they grew closer, one of the guys stood. He wasn't armed, but he was definitely cautious of the new people heading towards them.

"We're not hunters," was the first thing out of Peter's mouth as they stood in the doorway. His lips felt numb, and with a quick glance down, he noticed they were slightly blue. It was a phrase he had gotten into the habit of saying over the years, and one of the quickest ways to de-escalate a situation before it got too bad. "Please, we just need to get out of the storm."

"Alright, c'mon in, then. Storm is getting worse."

"Thank you so much," Peter breathed out. He stood there a moment, eyeing the two men, before slowly sitting down near the fire. Wade sat next to him, huddling a bit close to share a little body heat.

"What are your names?" the other asked, a gentle smile on his face.

"I'm Peter, and this is my friend, Wade. We were trying to make our way back to the nearest city, but got lost as the storm started picking up. We've been wandering for I don't even know how long before we came across you two," Peter explained, still shivering.

"I'm Bruce," the same guy said. "And the guy that met you at the door is Thor."

"Thor like the mythology guy?" Wade asked. Peter lightly elbowed him.

Thor took in stride, however. "That same one. My parents were rather fond of all things mythology. My brother and I were both named after Norse gods."

Peter watched as Thor's face fell slightly when mentioning his brother, so Peter figured it was best not to ask. If Peter knew anything, then it was how it felt to lose someone close to you. Those wounds still stung whenever Peter thought about his deceased friends. Wade never talked much about his own personal losses past his mother and father being bit when the infection was still new, and the world was still operating the way it had been for a while. Deep down, Peter knew Wade must've been through a lot before he even thought about meeting Peter. He never once mentioned the scars covering his body, but every so often, Peter would catch him wincing out of the corner of his eye, hand hovering a certain patch of skin like it was particularly tender to the touch. Peter couldn't even begin to imagine how painful they must feel under the hot intensity of the sun, or even the sharp wind of a bitter winter.

The four of them fell into a comfortable silence. They were all too cold to keep up much of a conversation, and Peter didn't feel like forcing anything. Bruce and Thor were huddled together, whispering things back and forth every so often. It was quiet enough that Peter couldn't hear any of it, but he was also comfortable where he found himself pressed to Wade's side. He soon found his head laying on Wade's shoulder, unsure if the warmth he was feeling was from the fire, the heat of Wade's body, or hypothermia. Either way, he was content where he was sitting. As was Wade, if his stillness was anything to go by. Wade must've been cold. He once admitted to Peter that he hated the silence. It always reminded him of the calm before the storm, and he never liked that. So he'd always fill the silence.

It took a few hours, and by the time night was in full swing, the storm had calmed. It was still snowing, but it was faint. Bruce had fallen asleep, curled into a ball near the slowly dying fire. Thor looked close to passing out, but kept a firm watch over Bruce. Peter briefly wondered how long they had known each other for Thor to feel that fiercely protective over Bruce.

"Did you want to keep walking or stop for the night?" Wade murmured to Peter.

"We might as well stay," Peter replied back, voice just as soft. He met Wade's questioning eyes and gave him a small smile. If anything, Wade's eyes reminded him of a beautiful summer sky. Free of clouds and full of warmth and hope. Peter knew Wade had given up on ever seeing the end of whatever shit show had happened to the Earth, but something inside the intense blue kept reeling Peter in. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt his cheeks slowly warm at the feeling. Clearing his throat and forcing himself to break eye contact, Peter spoke again. "Why don't you sleep? You never slept last night, and you must be exhausted."

Something in Wade's expression shifted, but he was nodding anyway and mimicking Bruce. In a way, Wade reminded Peter of a lazy cat. Like those wild cats he'd come across every so often sunbathing on a patch of warm grass. Smiling softly, Peter absentmindedly ran a hand gently down Wade's hooded head, hand shaking as he pulled it away when he realised when he was doing. And he must've been really tired, too, because soft snores soon arose from the older male's mouth.

"You care a great deal about him, don't you?" Thor asked, shaking Peter from his daze.

"We've been traveling together for a couple months. That type of stuff usually bonds people together," Peter weakly joked.

Thor's eyes searched Peter, and the younger wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. Finally, he spoke. "The road to anywhere is quite a lonely one, even if you walk alongside someone else. I'm not telling you that you have to act on something that may or may not be there, but keep in mind that it's only human to not want to be alone anymore."

Peter's eyes widened a little, and his thoughts immediately flew to MJ. He had met her shortly before he left the New York Quarantine Zone. The entire Zone was a disaster, almost bursting at the seams from all the people flocking in, trying to stay away from the horrors of being in the exposed parts of the country. The wide open plains, or the cracked and broken buildings. It wasn't much safer in the Zone, but people were desperate. MJ had made a similar comment once before they got together. Lonely people got desperate, and in turn do desperate things. It wasn't a bad thing to crave companionship, and it wasn't like anybody was about to judge who you chose that person to be. It had been Harry who gave him the nudge to just kiss MJ and stop worrying over it.

But look where it got him.

Peter didn't respond right away to Thor, and the other man didn't seem to expect one, anyway. He tended to the fire, trying to keep it lit so it kept them warm throughout the night. Peter's head felt like it was spinning– round and round looking for an answer he didn't have. Wade and him hadn't been together long, only a few months, and yet Peter felt like he was back with MJ, Gwen, and Harry. The same level of trust that took years with them only took a couple months with Wade. And, quite frankly, that scared him. He wasn't sure if he was capable of handling another death of someone close to him. Death was something he saw every day, but experiencing it over and over again always felt a raw wound being exposed to the elements.

 **~*~**  

"Hey, Wade?"

Wade stopped where he was walking along a thawing river as they headed up towards who knows where. Spring would be arriving soon, and with it what Peter assumed to be the start of a new year. He remembered in school that a teacher stated a new year always began in the middle of winter. But winter blurred together so much that Peter just claimed spring was the beginning of the year to ease confusion. The older of the Zone always went on and on about different months and holidays, but since calendars hadn’t been made in a long while, nobody knew what month it was anymore. Birthdays and holidays became obsolete, and if you knew what season you were born in, you were doing well. Peter's was near the end of summer, just before the crisp of fall got her nails into the dying summer heat. He couldn't tell you what month, though. He never got the privilege of learning the month names.

"Yeah, Petey pie?"

Peter huffed slightly before sitting down on a fallen tree. Wade just watched him a minute before hesitantly sitting down next to him.

"I was born in the New York Quarantine Zone," Peter started, looking down at his tattered shoes as he spoke. "I never got to learn who my mother was, or even her name. She died in childbirth and I was taken away to the nursery. Some random woman raised me. I couldn't even tell you her name if I tried." He swallowed thickly and kicked at the dirt. "I'd rather swallow hot rocks than ever meet my scum of a dad. He was a hunter that took advantage of my mom when she was walking home from a scavenging trip. I was the result. I hated it there, though. Apparently New York was a huge city before everything happened, so it was overflowing with people. I shared a room with five other kids. New York had the same 'no leaving before you're eighteen' policy, but I thought it was bullshit. I met MJ and we escaped one night when the guards weren't looking.

"For a while, we just wandered the east coast. We met Gwen down south, and then Harry when were heading up to Boston. He had just left there and said it was starting to become another failing Zone, so we turned and started going west. We...we became this tight group over the years. I had a thing for MJ and Harry said it was stupid to just sit there and not do anything. So I took his advice and I kissed her.

"Harry and Gwen got together not long after that, and we all became happier, I suppose. We didn't feel as lonely as we did before when we had someone to shoulder the burden with. In different ways, of course." Peter swallowed thickly. "Harry got bit late the summer before last. We all freaked out about it. Didn't know what to do. He shot himself so he wouldn't become one of those things. None of us knew what to do after it happened, so we...we picked off the supplies he had and buried him. Gwen was hysterical, of course. She was never the same after he died. Got a bit careless and ended up getting shot by a hunter a few months later. MJ and I did the same thing with her body.

"MJ, she...she had always been the strongest person I knew. We somehow made it through the winter, just her and I. For a couple of wanderers, we had pretty good immune systems. Only...there was a bad storm last spring. We got caught in the middle of it, and we didn't have anywhere to go, so we walked through the entirety of it. MJ got sick, and she died a week later. And I was left burying the one person that I cared about the most. The one person that I was fighting for. And...and for a while, I didn't know what to do. Wandering around was only fun when you were doing it with others, and suddenly, I was alone. I lost everyone I cared about within a year."

An arm wrapped around him, and he found himself curling close to Wade. Neither of them spoke, but it felt nice to get that weight off his chest. Especially to Wade.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that," he said eventually. "Especially by yourself. You're stronger than you realise, Pete."

"Doesn't feel like it," Peter whispered.

"I know." Wade sat up and gave him a small smile. "Thank you for trusting me with that."

Peter looked into those familiar blue eyes and smiled back. "I trust you, Wade," he said honestly, feeling like a weight had come off his shoulders after saying that.

Wade looked shocked as he sat there. Slowly, a wide grin spread across his face. Peter couldn't help but smile back. "I trust you, too, baby boy."

Sighing happily, Peter laid his head on Wade's shoulder. Wade tensed a minute before relaxing and wrapping an arm around Peter, pulling him close. Peter looked around at the woods around them. The smell of earth filled his senses, a mix of wet bark, dirt, and a hint of the flowers that grew wild around them. That was one of the main things he loved about walking through the woods– the distinct and pure scent of nature.

"If a cure is ever found, I wanna move into the woods," Peter stated, smiling up at Wade. "I love the purity of it all."

"A cabin in the woods," Wade said, giggling at some joke only he knew. "Hey, when's your birthday?"

"I already told you, Wade. I don't know. Late summer sometime." Peter didn't feel like moving; Wade was warm.

"Pete...have you ever wanted to ask about my scars?" Wade asked softly, unsure.

Sitting up, Peter gave Wade a comforting smile. "Honestly? Since the moment I met you, but I didn't want to be rude."

Wade snorted. "Here we are, literally killing people, and you don't want to ask about this walking dog food face because you don't want to be rude. Peter, you truly are one of a kind, aren't you?"

Peter felt his cheeks heat as he laughed. "It's different when it's you."

Blue eyes were once again meeting his own brown, the intensity of the stare rooting him to his spot. Peter wasn't sure what Wade was looking for, but he seemed satisfied a moment later and looked away. "A hunter lit me on fire," he stated bluntly, an undercurrent of emotions lying just under a forced blasé attitude. "Threw some sort of fire bomb at me. It didn't kill me, obviously, but they thought it did and took off. I'm not sure how I made it to the river, but the cool water felt so nice against my skin, I was thankful I was there. There was nobody around me, so I stayed there for a few days. Pretty sure at one point when I was asleep people came through and thought I was a dead infected or something. My gun was gone when I woke up. Not that it surprised me much."

"I'm sorry," Peter said softly. He reached over and grabbed Wade's hand, loosely tangling their fingers together. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're still alive."

Wade's face softened as he looked at Peter. "Me too."

 **~*~**  

They found themselves at an old university campus. Wade was prattling on and on about its sports team, and at some point, Peter had completely tuned him out. He didn't know what football was, why would he care about how great the school's team was? Wade seemed pretty excited, so Peter elected to keep those thoughts to himself.

"Fucking insane how different the world's gotten," Wade said as they stood in front of the abandoned school. Large vines scaled the side of the brick, having almost completely taken over entire walls and building over the years. One of the smaller buildings was almost completely covered by wildlife. "Just twenty-three years ago, that building was where students went when they were new to campus."

Peter let his eyes scan over the old building. It looked awful, to put it nicely, but it was still standing. "If there aren't any infected, I don't see the harm in staying here for a while," he said, turning to Wade. "I'm sure it's been picked at over the years, but there's plenty of spaces to hide or sleep. If hunters come strolling through and causing trouble, there are enough high areas where we can take them out without getting spotted."

"Sounds good to me, baby boy. At least I can say I've been to college now."

Smiling, Peter made his way into the nearest dorm building. The ground had collapsed in the middle of the hallway on the first floor, so they had to walk through connecting dorm rooms to get to the stairs. They peeked around corners when the could, relieved that they had yet to come across any spores or infected. The picked through what they could through the rooms. Peter was able to get a newer pair of shoes to wear, much to his relief. There were large holes in the soles of both of his. After slipping them off and tossing the old shoes back onto the molded pile of blankets, they continued looking through the left behind clothes for any they could swipe. Peter found another shirt he could wear and stuffed it into his backpack. Wade found a pair of jeans and what looked like an old journal. Deciding not to comment, Peter led them up to the third and final floor. Almost immediately, they were met with the sight of three clickers wandering around, and spores.

"Fuck," Peter breathed out, pushing Wade back into the stairwell. He took out his mask and handed Wade his before peeking back through the doors. He held up three fingers before pulling out his knife and stalking forward. The clickers didn't seem to hear them as the two of them made their way in further. They wouldn't be able to stay in the building with the spores on the top floor, but Peter was always adamant about searching everything they came across.

Peter was able to take out the first one, and watched with pride as Wade took out another. The last clicker was none the wiser, walking around and making clicking noises to avoid bumping into anything. Peter walked carefully into the nearest dorm room, keeping a constant eye on the clicker. He stalked forward slowly, knife ready to take it out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wade watching him in case he needed help. Taking a shaky breath, Peter stood up and shoved the knife into the clicker's throat, holding on tightly as it struggled before dying. Peter let out a breath and let the corpse drop, his knife coated in blood.

Suddenly, there was a roaring coming from the connecting bathroom. Peter whipped around, spotting a runner coming towards him. "Run!" he yelled to Wade before taking off towards the door in which they came.

Peter stumbled over a loose floorboard, getting scared that the runner would catch up with them, but he quickly corrected himself before he could fall. Wade was waiting on the other side of the door, ready to close it as soon as Peter made it through the door. When he did, they quickly blocked the door with a stray piece of furniture sitting in the stairwell. Peter didn't have time to think about that before they hurried down the stairs to the first floor. In his haste, Peter completely forgot about the collapsed floor on the bottom floor, easily falling and getting his foot caught.

"Fuck!" Peter cried out, feeling the pinching of the broken wood clamping around his left leg.

"Why is it always your left that I'm fixing?" Wade muttered, standing awkwardly on the other side.

"Wade you're going to have to do something, I can't pull my leg back out without making it worse," Peter said, tears steadily streaming down his face. "Fuck, Wade, please hurry. This hurts so bad."

"I'm thinking," Wade said, kneeling the floor to get a closer look. They couldn't hear the runner coming after them anymore, but that didn't mean it wasn't alerting anymore nearby. Wade took off their masks and shoved them hastily into his backpack. He dug around in there before pulling out an axe. "Can you wiggle your toes?"

Peter let out a sob as he moved the toes of his injured foot, slight relief filling him when they moved.

"Okay. That means I only have to cut the wood." Wade's words were blunt and like a slap to the face for Peter, even though he knew why Wade asked him to wiggle his toes. "This is going to be loud and I don't know how many more infected are in the area, so I'm going to have to carry you out."

"That's fine, I don't care." Peter let out another sob. He didn't care that he was crying. His leg was throbbing in pain.

Wade made quick work of removing the splintered wood that was squeezing Peter's leg. He helped the younger slowly pull in out, the both of them hissing as they got a look at Peter's severely scrapped up leg. From the way his ankle felt, he was sure it was either sprained or broken. Neither exactly good in a situation like theirs.

Once he made sure both of their backpacks were secure on them, Wade gently lifted Peter into a bridal carry and made a quick pace as he walked them off the campus.

"Fuck, that would've made such a good base, too," Peter said as he watched the university disappear as Wade carried him back the way they came. "I'm pretty sure I saw a greenhouse."

"Peter," Wade said, his voice firm. He looked like he wasn't even straining to carry Peter, but the look on his face scared him. "Peter, your leg could very well be broken and you almost got _killed_ by a runner. The last thing I would like to talk about right now is a fucking greenhouse."

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, settling himself in Wade's arms. While he enjoyed not having to walk, he knew that he would eventually grow restless. The sun was already starting its descent downwards, so they only had a few good hours of daylight before they needed to stop. It probably wasn't helping any that Wade had to carry Peter.

Wade ended up turning a different way and started walking along a dead end road. There were a few houses alongside it, and Wade made his way to the white one on the end. Peter clung a little harder to Wade, not wanting to upset him any further. The inside of the house was completely trashed (to be expected), and Wade had gently set Peter on the couch. Peter played with the torn edges of a throw pillow as Wade took his time to take out all the splinters from Peter's leg and clean the wound. Thankfully, his ankle wasn't broken, but it was badly sprained. Wade wrapped it up before settling on the couch next to Peter.

Unlike any previous times, the silence was tense and awkward. Peter knew he put his foot in his mouth as they were leaving, and he was paying for it. When he opened his mouth to speak, he quickly shut it when he heard soft sniffles coming from next to him. Peter turned his head and felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach when he saw Wade crying. Not knowing what else to do, Peter reached over and grabbed Wade's hand. Wade gave him a shaky smile and turned his hand over, lacing their fingers together.

"I got so incredibly scared when I saw you stumble on your way out of that floor," he said after a moment. "I was terrified that I was going to lose you. And then when you fell through, I... _fuck_ , Pete. I didn't mean to snap at you, but I was so scared. I almost lost you, and you were talking about greenhouses like nothing had happened."

"I didn't realise–"

"No, I..." Wade sighed, his whole body slumping like a balloon running out of air. "I may have overreacted a bit."

"You didn't."

Peter's words made Wade look up from where he was staring at his lap. "Pumpkin, I think I may have found my new reason for living."

All the air felt like it came rushing out of Peter at once. His face grew hot and he found his gaze dropping down to Wade's chapped lips before meeting his eyes again. "I think I may have, too," he said softly.

Seeming to not want to startle him, Wade slowly leaned closer before softly kissing Peter. Smiling against his lips, Peter brought a hand up and cupped Wade's neck as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled back, they were both flushing happily. Looking into Wade's eyes, Peter knew that wherever Wade went, he would follow. It didn't matter if they never settled in one spot for longer than a few days, or however long, as long as he was by Wade's side. There were still a lot of things they had to work through. You never came out of anything like that unscathed. But Peter was fairly confident they could do it.

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> comments would be absolutely lovely, if you feel so inclined! im going to write more fics in this ‘verse since the game is SO much fun, and im a sucker for apocalypse type of settings, lmao
> 
>    
> [my tumblr](http://bibibarry.tumblr.com)  
> [my instagram](http://instagram.com/olivxrry)


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